Breathe
by LovelyLittleFreckle
Summary: Liz/Red. After a gun fight, Red is left injured and Liz goes to visit him. By request, I didn't want to leave you hanging! :) Notice the rating change since this is pretty much just smut now, guys. The usual - I own nothing. Please leave reviews!
1. Chapter 1

It seemed cruel that he was locked back in his cell, given that it was now abundantly clear that he was not dangerous to others; it was clear he was in more danger than anyone. As she approached the glass cage, she could see the blood now seeping through his bandage and onto his shirt. Before all this, his vulnerability would have been welcome, refreshing even. But now, it scared her. Even if it had been unwanted, his protection had always been something she could count on; but now that he needed protecting, she knew she wasn't safe. No one was.

"Are you OK?" she asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"I've been better. These shirts are expensive; Dembe went to a lot of effort ordering this one and I'm going to have a lot of trouble getting the blood out," he said, smirking. She could have sworn he winced, but she knew enough about him to know that even if he had, he'd probably rather that she not acknowledge it.

"I'm fine Lizzie, I'm about as safe in here as I'm going to get. It's you I'm concerned about."

"I'm not the one they're after," she said.

"You should get in, grab that chair," he said.

"What?"

"Get in the cell. They haven't secured the building."

"I'm fine," she said, gesturing to her bullet proof vest and the gun at her hip.

"Please," Red whispered. "Just for my peace of mind, Lizzie. I know it's ridiculous, but I'd feel much better if you were in here."

When she sighed, he knew she had given in and his face relaxed as she pushed the code on the wall that opened his cell, dragging the chair behind her. The hydraulics hissed and the door opened. The closer she got into the cage, the more she felt that Red might have been right – it wasn't going to be safe for a while beyond those doors.

"Red, you're bleeding. A lot."

"The shirt is already ruined, I'm not too worried about the volume."

"I am; do you feel dizzy at all?"

"Lizzy, I am fine. You don't think this hasn't happened to me before? Think about this happening to me as a lowly itinerant criminal, the amenities then weren't nearly as impressive."

The thought of Red getting shot and being all alone made her feel oddly protective. It was then that she realized that she could see the progression of the blood spread as she watched. His eyes were blinking almost imperceptibly slower and she felt her pulse race in fear. She couldn't let him die, he was an important asset.

"I'm sorry, I can't watch this," Liz said, not really apologizing.

"What are you doing?"

"You need pressure on that."

"And what are you doing to do about it?" His voice was a growl; it sounded like he was daring her.

She moved behind where he was sitting and put her hand over the spot where the blood was pooling on his shirt. She pushed. He groaned in pain as she applied pressure. His hand grabbed hers and her breath caught.

"You cannot honestly think that's helping."

"You're supposed to put pressure on wounds!"

"I think I'm beyond the point where that's going to help, it's not a paper cut. Don't be hysterical, sit down." He gestured to the bench opposite the chair.

He pulled on her arm until her face was forced next to his and she remembered in an instant how much he scared her. He turned so his lips were next to her ear and he breathed his words forcibly for emphasis.

"If you want to help me, you will sit here next to me and talk to me until I black out, or until helps comes. Or you can leave and you can let me drift off alone. I'd prefer the company, but I can't have you losing your cool or you will just make this worse for both of us. Sit."

Liz hesitated. _Did he say that he was going to pass out?_ She felt his hand, still on her wrist, twist around to slyly check her pulse.

"Lizzie, breathe."

"_You_ breathe, you're the one bleeding." She tried to wrench her wrist away but, even bleeding, he was still stronger. He pulled her onto the chair in front of him, keeping his grip on her wrist.

"Look at me, Lizzie. Take a deep breath."

She complied. His eyes searched hers and she could feel her pulse slow under his thumb. He stroked her scar, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I thought I told you to breathe," he said, smirking. Lizzie was suddenly aware that she had stopped breathing once he touched her scar and that he had been watching for her chest to rise and fall. She took in a deep breath, taking in the cool, controlled air. Catching a glimpse at the wound on his chest, she shuddered.

"Don't look," he said in a whisper, comforting her. She sat down in the chair and pulled it closer to him, not thinking about what she was doing.

"Lizzie, I'm sorry this must be very frightening for you."

"You're sorry? Obviously this wasn't your fault."

"It is my fault. I knew that coming into your life would cause you pain, but you have to understand that it's going to be worth it I promise you. I just didn't think about all the different ways I would hurt you and scare you in the process. For that I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry that I found you."

"I'm not sorry either."

"Good."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Lizzie, I've done so many things wrong. I have neglected to save people who I loved through my own carelessness but you've been a fresh start for me. I want to protect you because I have failed so many times before."

"But why me."

"Because even though I had selfish reasons for choosing you, I have loved you from the moment I first saw you here. And know that even if those reasons are complicated, meeting you and working with you has made it infinitely more simple. I will protect you at all costs because you are and have been my salvation. And I will love you as long as I live."

Even though her shock at his words, she tried hard to look at his eyes. He looked pained, his eyes searching hers for permission but she didn't know what for. She figured it out soon enough when he touched his lips to hers. She was so shocked she didn't think to close her eyes. She watched as his eyes closed, slowly, accentuating the dignified wrinkles that formed at their corners. She felt his lips begin to smile under hers. She felt like the room was spinning and held onto Red tightly. He reached up and cradled her face, kissing her deeply and feverishly.

"Remember. Breathing," he said, breaking their kiss for just a moment.

"I don't care about breathing."

The alarms began to sound and she separated herself from him, sitting as casually as possible back in the chair opposite.

"Unbelievable," Red smiled, shaking his head.


	2. Chapter 2

"Agent Keen, what a pleasure," Red greeted, answering the door. "If you're here on official business I am sorry to inform you that I am unable to report for duty as I am convalescing."

"First of all, I am not here on official business. Second, I'm fairly certain that the moonshine you're drinking isn't recommended by whatever doctor is overseeing your so called convalescence," she said, gesturing to the sweating glass of mystery booze on the table. "Third, don't use the term 'convalescing', it makes you sound old."

He settled back on his couch, crossing his legs effortlessly and chuckling a little. He grimaced only slightly as he sat, reminded of the wound in his shoulder. Anyone else may not have noticed that he was in any pain at all.

"I'm not here to check on you," she said.

"Then why are you here? You disparaged my beverage offerings by calling it moonshine, so the bar is closed if that's your prerogative," he said.

"Cut the act, Red. I think you know that we need to discuss what happened."

She could feel him freeze uncharacteristically for just a moment before picking up his drink again, carefully making sure she couldn't see him caught off guard. He pursed his lips the way he had when she had only weeks ago told him in the same apartment to go to hell. Wanting to put him at ease, she sat next to him instead of leaning against the opposite side of the couch. After all she wasn't there to turn him down.

"Lizzie it was not my intention to make you uncomfortable," he said.

"You didn't. I was not uncomfortable. I am not uncomfortable now."

"Your tone led me to believe that I was in trouble. So if you're not here to reprimand me then I'm genuinely confused," he said with a sigh.

"I'm not going to spell it out for you," she said, turning toward him and leaning in close. He turned to look at her, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. Her eyes were trained on his, unflinching. He realized after a moment that it was he who was hesitating.

"I want to make sure you know what you are signing up for here," he said, leaning in as well.

"I'm a big girl, don't patronize me," she said, though not truly offended.

"I don't think you understand," he growled. "I can't afford to do this with you and then have you running back to Tom. Nor will I tolerate any discussion, when you realize what you've done, regarding how I coerced you into this. Because once we open this door we do it together and we do not take it back. Otherwise I walk."

"Red?"

"Yes?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

"Are you stalling because you're scared?" she asked, unbuttoning the only button on her blazer.

He laughed a long, sincere laugh, throwing his head back in amusement. He stopped himself only to get close enough to her to graze his lip against her ear, warming the side of her face with his eager breath. Using one hand to caress the back of her neck, she felt for a moment like a kitten being picked up by its scruff; suddenly and disconcertingly relaxed under his touch. He dropped his voice into a register just above a growl, making sure the breath from his words reached the lobes of her ears.

"While 10 years ago, this kind of thing might suit me, I'm afraid I'm not this kind of man anymore," he said, feeling her involuntarily wilt under his touch, watching her assume she was about to be let down. Only toying with her for a moment, he continued. "If I'm going to make love to a woman, it just can't be done properly outside of 800 thread count. And seeing that this is an apartment and I have neighbors, you're going to need something to muffle your reaction to what I'm about to do to you. Your choices are a pillow or a mouthful of a very expensive tie. Those are your choices."

"I can be quiet."

"You have been quiet in the past, with other men. This is going to be much different."

Liz smiled, longing for the feeling she had been thinking about since she had last seen him. She decided to take matters into her own hands. In one swift move, she swung her leg over him and straddled his lap. For the first time since she had met the man, he looked genuinely stunned, eyes wide and mouth hanging open only slightly. His chest rose sharply, taking in a ragged breath. Know that he was momentarily not in control, Liz capitalized. Taking his face in her hands she leaned in closely, hovering her lips above his, tantalizingly close. She dragged her bottom lip against his, and she watched his eyes flutter shut. He was right where she wanted him.

Too late, she recognized the feeling of his arms flexng against her and his rough hands at the collar of her blouse. The fabric ripped with a sharp tug and the buttons popped, exposing her chest suddenly to the cool air in the room. His eyes opened again, holding hers.

"Do you mind not destroying my clothes?" she said.

"What is it, Ann Taylor Loft? I'm not worried. Consider this a prelude to an upgrade," he said.

"What's wrong with this shirt?" she demanded.

"That you're still wearing it."


	3. Chapter 3

Liz felt empowered around him for the first time since they met; even though he had just destroyed her favorite blazer he was still right where she wanted him. But still with her lips just barely above his, he was defiant. He did not close his eyes and she watched them dart back and forth across her face, taking it in, seeming to memorize her features. She smiled, and he returned the favor, crinkling the skin around his eyes in that way she'd grown to covet in secret.

"Lizzie, I…" he started.

And then in all happened in an instant.

The first thing Liz was aware of was a loud crashing noise. It was in the direction of the door behind her, but that's all she could discern. There was a metallic scrape of the gun that she didn't know had been on the table behind them, and the click of a safety deactivating as Red pointed it in the direction of the noise. Before she was even consciously aware that she might be in danger, she felt him crush her body against his chest protectively. She felt the disturbing warmth of the bandaged wound on his chest radiating on her shoulder. She turned instinctively to take a glance behind her at the door and with an unsettling force, he pulled her back. His chest was heaving against her and she felt his skin instantly go cold.

For a moment she stayed there, unquestioning, stunned. Then he rose from the couch still holding her tightly and pointing his gun at the door. Both of them on their feet, he whispered into her ear, "Get behind the couch, under the table and stay silent. Do not move."

As she took her spot behind the couch she watched him approach the door, which was shockingly still intact despite the sound of wood threatening to crack. With the gun behind his back he looked out the peephole and then wrenched the door open. Liz could see from her hidden vantage point his neighbor across the hall with four bags of groceries at her feet.

"I am so sorry," she stammered. "This stupid door. Normally it takes so much force to get the stupid thing open and the super must have come and fixed it today. No warning! A six month old work order! I'm lucky I didn't put a hole in the wall with the damn handle! Mr. Hemstead, I am so sorry I must have scared you terribly, you look white as a sheet!"

"It's fine, I understand. I only hope I get more warning when he finally fixes my dripping faucet," his tone was very collected for someone with a gun tucked behind his back with the safety still off.

They exchanged apologies again and then pleasant goodbyes. Closing the door, Red clicked the safety back on and crossed the room to place the gun back on the table behind the couch.

"Now… where were we," he said, his nonchalance disturbing. He moved his eyes from the table to see her still crouched under it on her hands and knees. When her eyes met his they were still slightly glazed over by fear. Despite her heartbeat rushing in her ears, she rose to her feet.

"What in the hell was that about?" she asked.

"It sounded for all the world like someone breaking the door down and finding that it wasn't this particular door wasn't much consolation," he explained. "Could have been someone looking for me with the wrong apartment number. Almost the exact thing that happened in Cairo," he said.

"I guess that was more of a rhetorical question, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

Liz sighed, trying to regulate her breathing. She noticed his face was beaded with sweat. She picked up one of his hands in her own and massaged her thumb into his palm, feeling his hand relax with the pop and thump of muscles righting themselves under her touch. The skin was calloused and rough and she noticed for the first time how large his hands were. She placed the hand against her face and leaned against it, letting its warmth seep into her cold, clammy cheek still slick with sweat from her terror. She leaned forward and placed a kiss into his neck and she felt his vocal chords thrum under her lips as he moaned softly.

"You were about to say something before," she said.

"I don't remember. But give it a moment, my brain is sort of occupied at the moment," he said.

"I don't need to know," she said. She pressed another kiss into his neck, lingering for a moment to feel his quickened pulse under her lips. She noticed in the skin there the now-faint scar from the stab wound. How could he trust her after that?

"I never apologized for stabbing you," she said. He chuckled.

"It certainly hurt, but it was the moment I learned that you wear Chanel No. 5, so I can't say it was an entirely disappointing experience."

He ran his hands under the shoulders of her open blazer and pulled it down over her arms. He inhaled as he buried his face into her hair.

"Ah, there it is. Classic," he said.

Reaching behind her, she untucked her blouse from her pants then unbuttoned it slowly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people who is actually turned off by such a thing," he said, stripping the shirt off of her and watching her skin develop subtle goosebumps in the chilled air of the room. He ran his hands reverently over her skin, the goosebumps disappearing under the friction of his slow touch. Her eyes darted to his lips which he noticed, smiling.

"I'll take that as a no," he said. He reached for the back of her neck and grazed his lips across hers, kissing her just to right of her lips. She whimpered, she hoped, inaudibly. Eagerly she reached to kiss his lips and he placed his hand lightly on her throat, pushing her back softly.

"The bedroom is the second door on the right in the hallway, I will meet you there in a moment. I don't expect to see any clothing," he said. She took in a breath around his hand.

"My aren't you presumptuous," she said mocking the phrase he had used the cut her so deeply when she had assumed that she was the one person in the world he might care about.

"I am. But I'm also correct the _overwhelming_ majority of the time," he said, running his hand from her throat, down her chest, over her exposed stomach and then to the button of her pants, flicking it open. His hand left a trail of sensation that made her shiver. "No clothing," he repeated.

Making her way back to the bedroom, she heard the tinkling of ice in glasses and the suction of a decanter top. His bedroom was warmer than the living room, and where it had been dusty, his bedroom was nearly pristine. A blanket was folded at the foot of the bed, exposing just a sheet and two pillows. There were books on his nightstand and on a lone table in the corner there was a record player. Kicking her shoes off, she approached it to see what he had been listening to. She took a moment to make a guess while stepping out of her pants and her undergarments.

_Sinatra I bet. No, too predictable. Classical music? No, he's not that stilted…_

Leaning over the table, she caught her reflection for a sobering moment. She neglected to read the letters on the record as she studied her reflection for a moment. _You'll lose your job. If you do this you can never undo it and then where will you be?_

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard him come in. He walked up behind her, still fully clothed to her dismay, and he placed an arm around her, one hand reaching up to grasp one of her breasts. He took a frosted glass in his other hand and ran it down her side. She gasped sharply at the harsh sensation.

"Are you a fan?" he asked, his lips on her ear.

"Of ice? No." she replied, startled.

"Of Sam Cooke," he said laughing softly.

"Oh, um. I uh… I'm not really familiar," she answered.

"You are, you just don't realize it," he let her go and opened the top of the record player, placing the needle carefully. He left their drinks on the table as he manipulated the arm. As the static from the speakers faded into a tinkling of piano, he turned and looked at her. His eyes drew unabashedly over her naked body.

"Let's dance," he said in a seductive growl, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was seemingly addressing her breasts.

"Not if I'm the only one naked."

"You're going to be the only one naked," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's not fair."

He took her hand in his and wrapped the other around her waist. Involuntarily, she reached a hand to his shoulder.

_If I go a million miles away, I'd write a letter each and every day  
Cuz honey nothing, nothing can ever changes this love I have for you._

"You're right, I do know this song," she said, pulling herself closer.

"It has always had a calming effect for me, his music. There's something comforting about that voice," he said. "One of the most tragic deaths in music, in my opinion. He was one of the most talented performers of his day and on top of that he was making money with a wholesome image. He was a self made man in the music industry which was unheard of in those days. And then in one moment, all of his demons were exposed to the world. And he was gone. All that potential snuffed in one moment. And even with all the good he had done, all the world remembered for many years was his fall from grace."

Liz swayed with him slowly, listening to the deep tones of his voice tell her what she knew was really his story too.

_Make me weak and you can make cry  
See me coming and you could pass me by  
But honey nothing, nothing can ever change this love I have for you_

She pulled herself away just far enough to look into his eyes. He let her get just close enough to touch her lips to his. At first she was delicate and halting, expecting him to push her away again. Instead he dropped her hand, and held her tightly, placing his hands at her sides, his thumbs grazing the side of each breast. She took that opportunity to deepen her kisses, tasting him as he opened his mouth to her. He tasted warm and sweet, the flavor of alcohol heavy on her tongue and his. She felt her skin catch fire as he began to bite down on her bottom lip, dragging it through his teeth delicately. She reached up and loosened his tie, undoing the knot. She felt the expensive fabric and buttons on his vest slipping under her fingers as she worked them free, stripping it off him without breaking their kiss. As her hands became frantic to touch the collar of his shirt, she felt his hands close around her wrists.

"Not yet," he said, just above a whisper. Stepping back from her, he rolled up his sleeves. In frustration, she plopped down on his bed, sitting on the edge. He unbuttoned his sleeves and started rolling them up.

"Will you just take it off, please," she said, sighing.

"When a man is tasked with doing anything he is good at, he should do it in a suit," he said. "Lay back, and keep one of those pillows handy."

She could feel her pulse quicken until her heart pounded against her chest. She reached up for a pillow and watched as he dropped to his knees at the end of the bed. The mere sight of him on his knees in front of her shocked her to near paralysis. She propped herself up on her elbows, not wanting to take her eyes off his face. It was especially handsome in the daylight streaming in from the window, highlighting his rugged yet seasoned features. He parted her knees gently and slowly, placing wet, warm kisses up and down her thighs.

"Elizabeth," he said, becoming strangely formal. "Relax." Laying back, she watched his hungry eyes for as long as she could before they dipped below the horizon of her own skin. She felt him take a deep breath before he placed an oddly chaste kiss on the delicate cluster of nerves between her legs. She could have sworn she felt the vibrations of him humming against her, along with the music and he began to lick her gently, and then with intricate force.

In those moments she thought of things she knew that she shouldn't. Briefly she thought of Tom and how long it had been since he'd touched her the way Red was touching her. She remembered the squelching sound of the pen puncturing Red's neck. She thought of the fact that when she was born, Red was already an adult. She thought of Luli.

Removing his mouth for just a moment, she felt him place two fingers deep inside her and curl them. She arched her back, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets as the sensation brought her out of her body.

"Don't think, relax," he said.

He sucked as much of her delicate skin into his mouth as he could and flicked his tongue over the most sensitive bits. She could feel that she was about to scream. She placed the pillow over her face as her mind began to cloud over. She could feel him intensify the curl of his fingers inside her and quicken the pace of his tongue. He steadied her with the other hand, pressing his hand firmly against the muscles just below her belly button.

She knew then that the pillow was going to do no good. She bit down on the slick fabric of the pillow and drew in a breath, entirely encompassed by the scent of him lingering on the fibers. Feeling her aching crescendo reach its peak, she let out a moaning scream. Her legs bucked and her thighs trembled against his head, the insides of her them scraping against the stubble of his head. She lost herself in the rolling tide of sensations until she felt him remove his fingers which threatened to bring her to tears.

With a heavy sigh, she threw the pillow back behind her and felt her sweat chill her skin. She felt the overwhelming need to see his face, to make sure it was really him. That it was actually real. He found him looking at her attentively and as he locked his eyes with hers and drew his fingers into his mouth and then slowly back out.

"Delicious," he said, his face rapt.

"I um… thanks. I… what was that?" she said, realizing even as the words came out of her mouth that they sounded insane.

"That was you benefitting from my knowledge of female anatomy," he said. He began to unbutton his shirt, beginning to expose the soft hair on his chest. "Now indulge me while I show off a bit more."


	4. Chapter 4

Just as soon as he moved to touch the buttons on his shirt, he stopped and looked out the window into the night. For a moment it felt to her like the air had left the room – a change in temperature.

"The stars are out," he said smiling innocently as he instead straightened his sleeves.

"What?"

"The stars are out, and if memory serves it's supposed to be crystal clear tonight. Cloudless sky, warm night, it would be a shame to miss the opportunity to do a little stargazing," he said. "Grab the robe hanging on the bathroom door, I'll pour us another drink."

She was stunned. _He already regrets this. _She was acutely aware of how naked she was and was aware that she was gaping at him incredulously.

"You think the weather in this situation is going to be the missed opportunity?" she asked, cognizant that she sounded like a petulant child. "I should go home." She shrank to conceal as much of her body as she could, wondering where her clothes were. What was left of them anyway.

_He's going to act like nothing happened. After all that, it will be like nothing happened. Just get up, Elizabeth, go home. It's over. It never even fucking started. _

She felt his hand on the side of her face, tilting it up. She refused to look at him.

"Lizzie, look at me," he said. He bent until his face was so close she could no longer avoid him. "You don't want me."

He said those four words slowly, earnestly. It wasn't a suspicion, he was certain. And it infuriated her. She shoved him roughly away from her and he winced as her hand found aggressive purchase over his wound. She moved with purpose toward the bathroom where she wrenched the robe from its hook hard enough to send the metal clattering to the floor.

"How dare you," she spat angrily. "Let's get one thing straight, you do not tell me what I do and do not want. I am a grown woman and I would not have come here tonight if I did not want you. Do you think it behooves me to give a shit about you and your well-being? From the day I met you, you started tearing my entire life apart at the seams. There is not one element of my being that you haven't taken as your own and let break in your hands. So would you at least do me the courtesy of considering that I am person? I am here. I showed up at your door step when it was inconvenient… no, dangerous. And you have the balls to tell me I don't want you." She scoffed.

The glass that he was casually bringing to his lips when she began speaking hung there now in his hand. His eyes were sad, locked on her face. And for the second time in as many months she stood in his apartment, staring into his broken and vulnerable face and told him to go to hell. Instead of leaving through the front door, she opened the door in the bedroom leading to the deck and shut it behind her, the chilly and damp boards shocking her feet and shocking her back to reality.

There was only a hammock and she sat on it, wiping away the tears unconsciously streaming down her face. The harder she tried to stop them, the worse they got. Her breath stuttered the way it does when anger takes over your body and won't let it go.

_What the hell had happened in the last two minutes. Did I do something wrong?_

The door opened behind her and he stepped out onto the deck. She buried her head in her hands, not wanting to acknowledge that he was there. And she didn't want him acknowledging her tears.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she said through gritted teeth.

"For ruining your life."

"I don't care. None of it was real."

"It was real to you for a very long time and I'm sorry that I am the one who took it from you. And I'm sorry for getting myself… intimately involved with you." He leaned against the railing in front of her, bowing his head to her, tilting it to search her face. Instead she searched his. His eyes were sad; he looked like a boy pleading his way out of trouble. His apology was not an apology; he looked guilty, but he wasn't sorry. She could deal with guilty. In fact he should feel guilty, in fact it was heartening that he could still feel such an emotion after everything he'd done.

He didn't move an inch to give himself away as she got up and without hesitation, crossed the deck. For a discouraging moment, she pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and he did not move to touch her in return. She placed a hand on the back of his head comfortingly and she pressed her lips to his ear. Still, he didn't move.

"Red, when I know what I want, I don't stop until I get it. I think you've learned that about me by now. So do you want to tell me what this is really about?"

"I am damaged, Lizzie. I have nothing to offer you but the physical and even then I don't really know why you're interested. And I am not a young man anymore, I am old. I am not capable of loving a person without hurting them. What you see in me if you see anything at all cannot be rational. Not as rational as I know you to be."

"You saved my life," she said.

"I endangered it in the first place."

"_I _endangered it. I took this job. And I let myself love you, it didn't just happen. Even if it isn't rational, it was a conscious decision. One I have considered. You care about me and I have grown to care for you. And what in the hell do you care anyway about being old. Isn't it beautiful women who are supposed to fish for compliments with self deprication, not handsome men? You can't use my own kind's tricks against me, Reddington."

She felt a laugh shake his body as she held him.

"You profilers. There's no fooling you is there," he said and ran one hand down her back.

"Fooling us?"

"Well… call it feigning a little regret to see how sincerely you want me. Dishonest? Maybe. But look how sexy you are when you're considering murder." His mouth seemed to relish the word sexy, his whole face did, contorting into the smug squint she'd grown so fond of.

"You did… all that…" she began. He felt her try to squirm away and grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling her against him.

"I had to make sure," he said.

"And what if I wake up in the morning and realize that I am involved with a manipulative, vain prick," she popped her lips on the last word, sending the subtle percussion directly into his ear.

"Then at least I will know that you are as perceptive as I suspect and that I haven't been engaging in any false advertising."

She reached back to grab his hands off of her and laced her fingers between his. Feeling her ring pinching between their fingers, she dropped his hands and she wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him firmly, inhaling the scent of his skin. Without breaking the kiss, she worked her ring off her finger and let go. There was a delicate tinkling of metal on concrete as the rings fell and dropped onto the street below. Knowing that he heard it too, she bit down on his lip and watched as his eyes flip open an inch away from hers. She felt him smile.

"Now that you have cashed in your one opportunity to screw with me, what do you say you pick up where you left off," she said. Still reeling from what she thought was his rejection she spent the time waiting for his response kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck… and then reaching for his belt. He grabbed her wrists.

"I suspect there's one thing you're good at that you can't do in a suit, Red."

He smiled and brought her hands up to his shirt buttons. Taking the hint she worked the buttons loose and spread his shirt open, exposing his bare chest to the night breeze. His skin was soft under his coarse hair and she ran her hands over it feeling her palms tingle under the texture. Pulling his shirt off his shoulders and arms, she let it fall on the ground behind him. His arms were firm and strong, with an unexpected spray of small freckles. Running her hand down the length of his arm, she noticed the raised bump of a tattoo on his bicep – it was blued and hazy with age.

"What's this?" she asked, running her finger over it.

"Spider."

"Why a spider?"

"I was 19, I don't remember now. I'm sure it wasn't important."

"Someday," Liz said, beginning to unbuckle his belt "I want to know who the hell you are Raymond Reddington."

"You don't," he said, this time seeming sincere.

She ignored him. She was done playing his little mind games and he was wrong. She whipped the belt off of him and began to unbutton his pants, kissing his chest. He stopped her hands.

_Not. Again. _

"Inside." His voice was authoritative, just a step above a growl.

It was warm inside and although the ice in her drink had melted almost completely, she drank from it and watched while he moved past her to the foot of the bed. He carefully untied his shoes and placed them on the floor. He was taking too long for her liking. She walked over and dropped her robe to the ground causing him to look up from taking off his last sock. He raked his eyes upward over the length of her legs and stopped strategically. Sensing the distraction he betrayed with a smile, she shoved his chest lightly, avoiding the bandaged wound on his shoulder and he slowly leaned back until he was propped up on his elbows.

"You're beautiful, Elizabeth," he said and she took the opportunity to meet his eyes.

"Oh yeah," she challenged as she unzipped his pants and began to pull them out from under him. "You're very handsome yourself, do you always use that fact to get what you want?"

"Yes."

He sat up, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her toward him until she was straddling him. She hovered just high enough to tease him, letting him kiss her stomach and reach up to circle each of her nipples delicately with his tongue. She whimpered his name as he kissed her chest gently, almost imperceptibly. He reached up her back and gathered a handful of her hair and pulled gently, forcing her head up and eyes toward the ceiling.

"Last chance. Say the word and you can go; you can get dressed and you go home," he said.

Unable to look into his eyes she took the first moment in a while to think. She could feel his breath grazing her breasts and though she tried to clear her mind and think rationally, the warm rhythm of his breathing against her skin proved too hypnotic. She suspected he knew that.

"My shirt isn't fit to wear home," she said, teasingly. "So I guess my hands are tied."

She felt him let go of her hair and she lowered herself to kiss him. At first the kiss was chaste and she took a moment to memorize how his lips felt. They were strong and firm, but incredibly soft. She cradled his face lovingly, running her thumbs reverently over the cheekbones she had been admiring. His lips began to move faster, pleadingly and opened her eyes to see his pressed tightly shut. She kissed his eyes until she felt his eyelids relax under her lips and then lowered herself, slowly until she could feel him.

"Relax, Raymond," she said, using his full name the way he did with her when he caught her clenched too tightly. "Breathe." As she felt his chest rise and fall for the first time in a few moments, he grabbed her ass tightly and guided her down his shaft, pressing his hips up and into hers. As she felt herself stretch around him, the room seemed to spin. She was lightheaded. Dizzy. She came to with the sound of a woman's voice moaning. It was her. Just as the room as stopped spinning, it spun again as he flipped her onto her back, never breaking their contact.

"You alright?" he asked, whispering into her neck and letting his weight settle over her. "That was awfully loud."

"I'm fine you're just..." she started, embarrassed to inflate his ego by finishing her sentence. She was still feeling herself adjust to his girth inside her. He chuckled, his lips warming her ear.

"I'm not what you're used to," he said, taking her earlobe into his mouth and biting down gently.

"Not at all."

"I get that a lot."

"How modest."

He gently pulled out and then back into her and she caught sight of his bandaged shoulder.

"Your shoulder," she said.

"You should know that at a certain point you're not going to be able to keep doing this," he said, continuing to move in and out and in and out painfully slowly. His face began to shine with a dew of sweat.

"Do what?"

"Talk. Not if I'm doing this properly. And I intend to do this properly. So stop looking at it and keep your eyes on me. Tie's on the nightstand."

She reached to her side and felt for its silky fabric, pulling it toward her without taking her eyes off his. She balled it up and stuffed it between her teeth. He smiled and pushed himself deep inside her until her eyes rolled back. She inhaled sharply through her nose.

The pressure below her navel was building already and she felt it gather more and more as he plunged into her with increasing speed. The dewy sweat gathering on his forehead dripped intermittently onto her face. She watched as his became intent instead of reverent.

She wondered how long he'd been thinking about these moments. Had it been as long as she had? Impossible, it was the first thing she thought of when she saw him the first time they met. She remembered her shame when she realized those thoughts had occurred to her; she didn't know the man. It was those eyes – he had a way of looking at you and making you feel immediately and unwillingly naked.

"Have you ever wondered what you taste like, Lizzie?"

She moaned a no around her makeshift gag. She skin broke out in a bloom of sweat and an embarrassed pink.

"Sweet. You taste like… warm honey and it's… fucking intoxicating."

He sped up, crashing himself against her. The headboard of his bed bumped rhythmically against the wall and she suspected that if he had neighbors in the first place, the gag was now obsolete. She could feel herself tightening around him like a coiling snake. She knew this feeling but it was all new. She ran her hands over his chest, feeling his muscles flex and relax as he worked his body against hers. He changed his angle only slightly and hitched her leg up, his strong hand grasping her knee as he pushed it toward her check. With one thrust and without any warning she felt like she shattering apart. She screamed into the soft silkiness of the tie and felt the skin of his back give way slightly under her fingernails. He winced. She lost control of her legs and they shook uncontrollably while she trembled under him.

"That's it. Let go. You're gorgeous when you come," he said, not letting up his pace at all. "But that's not good enough."

This time he hitched both of her legs up toward her chest, lifting his torso up off of hers and plunged into her one more time. And she felt like she was coming out of her body. She screamed once more, sure that she had ripped the fabric of his tie between her teeth. The pleasure came in crashing, unrelenting waves and she was able to open her eyes in barely enough time to watch Red tip over the edge.

She caught him taking one last thirsty look at her before his eyes rolled back and his jaw slackened.

"Ah, my god." She felt him come inside her like a dam bursting. He pulled the tie out of her mouth and collapsed on top of her, his lips covering hers. He moaned deeply into her mouth and his breath filled her lungs. It was the most intimate thing she had ever felt; she had never been this connected to anyone in her entire life. She moved her lips to his neck and kissed the slick, salty skin just below his ear.

"How are you feeling," he said, rolling over onto his back and pulling her toward him to lie on his chest.

"Wonderful," she answered. "And damp."

"Lay here with me for a minute and later I'll show you the clawfoot tub. I'm going to need a bath myself if these wounds will allow it."

"Wound_s_?" she asked. "I thought you just had one."

"I did," he said, rolling his back toward her and exposing to her the long scratches down his back slowly seeping blood onto the sheets.

"Oh my god, Red, I am… so sorry."

"No you're not," he chuckled, rolling back toward her.

He was right.


End file.
